


Knight in White Satin

by rangerhitomi



Series: radical dreamers [14]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Zexal
Genre: First and last time, M/M, Non-Explicit, Past Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-05
Updated: 2013-09-05
Packaged: 2017-12-25 16:25:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/955266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rangerhitomi/pseuds/rangerhitomi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nasch wants revenge, Durbe wants to protect his prince, both want each other. Just for a night, they can find that common ground.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Knight in White Satin

**Author's Note:**

> “Impassioned lovers  
> Wrestle as one  
> Lonely man cries for love  
> And has none”

Hours passed. The sun had gone down long ago. Yet the young king refused to leave the throne room where his sister had rested in a casket of daisies, refused to listen to anyone who dared suggest he go to sleep. He sent away every soldier who had entered the room where her body once lay.

All but one.

Durbe stood back, a silent sentinel, and let Nasch tremble with tears, let him whisper to the empty dais, let him curse Vector through his sobs. He allowed himself to shed tears of his own. How could he not, when Merag had been close to his heart? He was the outsider, the foreign knight… but Nasch let him stay for this. That Nasch trusted Durbe enough to let him see him at his weakest meant the world to Durbe.

He could still hear Vector’s laughter, could still hear Nasch’s anguished screams as he held her, could still feel the tightening in his chest, the burning of hatred toward Vector and the desire to kill – but also the feeling of desire, the desire to go to Nasch and embrace him and cry together.

The latter feeling became so overwhelming he thought he might just do it.

“Durbe.” Nasch’s voice was hoarse.

“My friend,” Durbe said softly.

“She’s gone. She’s… really gone.”

Durbe had nothing to say. He bit his lip to keep it from trembling.

Nasch dragged himself from the dais and walked with unsteady steps toward Durbe. He felt his heart break a little more at the look on Nasch’s face; it was a look of despair, but in his eyes there was a much more unwelcome look. Vengeance. Hatred.

“I will kill the bastard,” Nasch whispered. “I will relish in his blood as it seeps through my fingers.”

It was, perhaps, instinct that drove Durbe to do what he did next, or maybe the overwhelming urge to give in to his grief. He certainly had never dared to touch Nasch without his express permission before, and even then it was a cordial clap on the shoulder or a touch of his hand. He wrapped his arms around Nasch’s shoulders and embraced him, clenching a handful of his cape with one hand and placing the other on the back of Nasch’s head. To his immense relief, Nasch’s initially stiffened body relaxed and he wrapped his own arms around Durbe’s waist.

“You need to rest,” he whispered.

“Yeah.”

They pulled apart and Durbe escorted him to his chambers in silence.

—-

Durbe lay in his bed, gazing at the ceiling. Dim moonlight filtered through his window. He contemplated opening the window and whistling for Mach; he contemplated replacing these white satin nightclothes with his armor and fleeing this land, flying away to another kingdom, far from here. He contemplated this for just a moment before shaking his head furiously. He loved Nasch too much to leave him in this state.

But maybe his love for Nasch was why he wanted to leave. Watching Merag die had been unbearable; could he really stand to see Nasch die too? That was the only future Durbe could see; Vector was too powerful, too resourceful, too cruel, and despite Nasch’s oath to kill Vector…

…he was just a young king; he was a young king with a pure heart, full of love and loyalty and determination to do the right thing, stricken with sorrow and heartbreak.

Either way, whether Vector killed Nasch or Nasch killed Vector, he would lose his dearest friend.

 _I must do my duty to him and keep him from fulfilling his oath,_ he told himself, but did he really have a duty here? Was he, the foreign knight, duty bound to serve a king that wasn’t his? _I will assume the duty and kill Vector myself._

The thought of murdering someone, even someone like Vector, made his stomach churn. He had killed before, but out of necessity. Revenge was something else entirely.

 _It is necessary,_ he told himself, shifting on the bed. The satin felt strange on his skin, and he could never get over how it didn’t cover his shoulders or most of his legs. He felt… exposed. _I have to kill Vector or I will lose Nasch. There is no alternative._

 _You will lose Nasch?_ another voice piped up. _You’re selfish, Durbe. He is the king and has his responsibilities. His duty is to defend his kingdom. Don’t deny him that honor simply because your love-stricken heart can’t bear the thought of what will happen to him when he does._

He tried to ignore the voice, but it was right.

There was a soft knock at the door.

Durbe sat up slowly, the smooth satin rubbing on his skin. It was so late, and no servant would wake him… and if there were an emergency, there would be much more noise.

He opened the door to Nasch, who wore a matching satin nightshirt in purple, blue eyes rimmed in red from his hours of tears.

“Your majesty…?”

Nasch shook his head, a humorless smile appearing on his face. “What have I told you about that?” Durbe looked away, but Nasch placed his hand on Durbe’s face and pulled it back so they were looking at one another again. “Are you going to leave your king barefoot in the hall?”

“You’re not my king,” Durbe muttered, but stood back and let Nasch in. He closed the door behind him as Nasch headed for the bed and sat on the edge. Durbe stood in the middle of the room, gazing out the wide window at the moonlight reflecting off the ocean.

“Are you going to look at me?” Nasch’s voice reflected his thoughts.

“I can’t.”

Nasch stood again and cleared the distance between them as Durbe remained rooted to the spot. Nasch stood so close to him that he could feel his warm breath on his cheek.

“Why?”

“Because I’m going to lose you.”

He had never been kissed, though he wondered what it would feel like, and since meeting Nasch, his thoughts always drifted to him. He knew better than to tell anyone in his home kingdom that he had fallen for a king. A man couldn’t love another man; it went against God’s word. Nor could he tell Nasch. A knight couldn’t fall for a king.

Nasch’s lips were dry against his and he wanted to push him away, but the feelings in his chest, in his stomach…

He kissed back clumsily, lips tight, and Nasch gave a weak laugh against his mouth. “I guess you don’t want this. I’m sorry.”

He started to pull away, and Durbe felt the panic, the conflict. He wanted to kiss Nasch again, to fall in love with him all over again, but at the same time…

_I’m going to lose him no matter what._

Unless he could kill Vector first.

If this was a sin, murder certainly was, and if he committed one sin, why not the other?

He took Nasch’s face in his hands and studied it, studied every contour, every detail. If he was damned to be tormented in his sins for eternity, he wanted at least one moment to remain in his mind.

They kissed again, and Durbe’s nose squished against Nasch’s until Nasch tilted his head. Durbe wrapped his arms around Nasch again, one hand clenching the smooth satin while the other tangled in Nasch’s hair; Nasch’s hands pressed against Durbe’s waist, where they traced Durbe’s hipbones and down to his thighs and Durbe broke the kiss and let out a whimper.

“You look beautiful in satin,” Nasch whispered in his ear.

“My lord-” Durbe was breathless and shaky, his heart pounding against Nasch’s body.

“My knight.”

They found their way to the bed, and Durbe let Nasch kiss him tenderly, reveling in the perfection of this moment, letting him forget, just for a moment, everything that was happening; letting himself forget that he had to let Nasch go.

—-

Durbe woke at sunrise, the satin sticking uncomfortably to the dried sweat on his body. He rolled over to touch Nasch, but Nasch was gone. In his place, resting on the pillow, lay a simple note.

_I know you wanted to save me. But I need to do this. It is my duty to my country and my sister._

_Thank you for everything. And please remember that, whatever happens to me, you could not have saved me. Return to your home and do your duty to your king there._

_Yours, Nasch_

Durbe held the note to his face and shook with the tears that would not come.

—-

Durbe stood in front of the other knights, the ones he had once considered his friends, his former comrades-in-arms. They had turned on him; they had overthrown his king. He wanted to hate them, but he was numb to the feelings of revenge now. He had wallowed in his anguish as he held the king of a distant land, the king that had been murdered and whose murderer had committed suicide; he had screamed his anger toward God for letting it happen, had wrapped the body in satin and flowers and set it off to sea with his sister.

Nasch had looked beautiful in satin.

“You abandoned your country,” the other knights told him. “Fight us, and take it back.”

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t raise his sword, the sword given him by Nasch, against another person.

Maybe he was a coward.

Maybe he just wanted to be with Nasch again.

They killed Mach first, and Durbe fell to his knees and clutched his most faithful companion, the one who had been with him through everything, and wept.

He didn’t move as he felt their hands tear off his armor.

He didn’t make a sound as they drove their swords into his body.


End file.
